An Old Treasure, A New Secret Weapon For International Rescue
by beadbird
Summary: International Rescue has saved many lives, but now they are called upon to save people trapped in a submarine...filled with illegal drugs! To make matters worse, the drug lord who owns the submarine has threatened to kill the families of the men trapped under the sea if they call for help! He'd rather kill his own men and retrieve the drugs at a more convenient time.
1. Chapter 1

**An Old Treasure, A New Secret Weapon For International Rescue**

Disclaimer: All of the Thunderbirds and other assorted characters in that series belonged first to Gerry Anderson, r.i.p., and now belong to their rightful legal owners, not to me! Mr. Sunshine the Bunny Boy doesn't own them either, grin! There are several original characters that are my creation in this story. No money is earned from this story, it's for the readers' enjoyment. Rated T for safety's sake, but I try to write for most audiences. Enjoy!

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Ruth Tracy sighed as she tried to push herself up from her easy chair in the lounge. Ah, the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be, she ruefully mused. Her son, Jeff Tracy, billionaire entrepreneur and the head of International Rescue walked in on her at just that moment. Helping her to her feet, he squinted and said, "Mother, enough is enough! I'm ordering that lifting chair for you today, just pick out the color you'd like and I'll have the boys bring it home with them the next time they go to the Mainland."

"Can I get the reclining rocker model, in blue, Jeff?"

"Sure thing, Mom. It's about time you took things a little easier, I'm sure the chair will be a great thing for you."

"Hmmphh!" declared the seasoned citizen. "I can run circles around you any day of the week, boy!"

"Sure you can, Mother, because I'll always let you win." Jeff winked and hugged his mother. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm off to the sewing room, again. Those grandsons of mine are bound and determined to keep me busy at that sewing machine, fixing their uniforms and making custom clothing for them to boot. I declare, I don't know how Alan thinks he's going to attract a young lady's notice by wearing a jacket with a cow print cloth!"

"Never mind, Mother. There's one young lady here who wouldn't care if Alan wore a jacket with hoofprints on it, she'd notice him all of the time, anyway."

Just at that moment the young lady in question appeared in the doorway. Smiling at the mother and son she informed them that she had finished all of her system checks on Thunderbird 2, and wanted to know if she were needed for any other work right away.

"Yes, dear, you can come help me in the sewing room. It's nicer when I have someone there to chat with while I sew. Of course, if you'd rather not…" she trailed off.

"No, Mrs. Tracy, I'd be glad to give you a hand," Tin-Tin said quickly. "Do you need me to get you some supplies?"

"No, Tin-Tin, and for the umpteenth time would you please just call me "Grandma" already!" Ruth's eyes twinkled mischievously. In her heart she felt that this girl would be the one to give her the much longed-for great-grandchild. "Tin-Tin, where are the boys?"

"They're all down by the pool, Mrs., er, Grandma."

"Good, dear. On second thought, would you get your father to bring us some coffee and pastries, please? It's going to take a whole lot of energy to get through the pile of repairs that await us."

"I'll be glad to bring the coffee and snacks, Grandma. Father is out in his gardens, and I wouldn't want to disturb him."

"Ah yes, the most beautiful gardens I've ever seen are right here on Tracy Island, thanks to Kyrano. It's a fine day, let him enjoy himself outside." That being said, the two ladies went off, ostensibly to meet a few minutes later in the spacious and very comfortable sewing and craft room. Ruth Tracy, however, stopped for a moment watching Tin-Tin hurry off to the kitchen. The older lady turned the other way and walked purposefully towards her luxurious suite of rooms. After about ten minutes of searching through an old sewing box in her closet, which she hadn't opened in many years, she found what she had sought. Tucking a delicate velveteen box into her pocket, Ruth then went as quickly as possible to the sewing room.

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"There you are, Grandma! I was getting ready to come down and see if you were alright," Tin-Tin spoke calmly, but there was worry on her face. Ruth Tracy may have been a strong woman for her age, but she was no spring chicken anymore.

"I just needed something from my room, dear. Now let's sort this mess out and see if we can salvage anything at all, or if we need to make all new uniforms for the 'Rag-Tag Brigade.'

Settling down to the job at hand, they worked and chatted steadily for almost three hours before Grandma Tracy declared a halt. "Time for more coffee, my dear. I have something I want to show you, too." Gently removing the jewelry box from her pocket, Ruth placed it in the younger woman's hands.

"What is this, Grandma?"

"Open it and see, Tin-Tin, and tell me what you think of it."

Carefully opening the fragile jewelry box, Tin-Tin gave a gasp of admiration when she beheld a gorgeous beaded pendant and a First Place Blue Ribbon from a County Fair, dated many years ago. "Why Grandma, this is magnificent! Who gave this to you?"

"No one gave me that, young lady, I made that myself!" chuckled Ruth. "I was very pleased when I finally won a Blue Ribbon at the Fair, and I've always kept that put away so the sun wouldn't fade it. Now, however, I think someone should wear it, and that someone is you, Tin-Tin. It's yours!"

"No ma'am, I couldn't possibly accept your pendant, it looks as if it took so much work to bead this!" Tin-Tin was quite moved by Ruth's gesture, and pressed her hand lightly.

"Nonsense, Tin-Tin. It's yours, and that's that! I'd be so happy to see you wearing it tonight at dinner, barring call-outs, of course."

"I don't know what to say, Grandma. 'Thank you' seems so inadequate…" Tin-Tin's voice trailed off, lower and softer.

"Wear it in good health, Tin-Tin, enjoy it! Do you want to hear how I became a beader?"

Tin-Tin nodded vigorously, so Ruth continued on. "I was about 14 years old at the time. My father and mother were both very busy with the farm. When Summer vacation started I was bored out of my gourd! Then at Church one day, I happened to sit next to a girl I'd never seen before. She was a Native American, a member of the Kiowa tribe. After the service was over, we went outside and talked and talked and became great friends, after a time. Her Indian name I never could pronounce, but everyone called her Peaches. She's gone now, I've learned. I've had her on my mind since I heard the news of her passing away recently."

"I'm so sorry, Grandma. I am just so truly very sorry."

"Well, Tin-Tin, she was 91, may she rest in peace. Before I get off on another tangent here, though, I'll tell you exactly how I started beading. I didn't have a whole lot of spending money available but wanted some nice jewelry. Peaches taught me how to loom beads, and a variety of off-loom stitches as well, in exchange for some of my used clothing. I was quite a bit taller than she was. I got the better part of the bargain by far, and kept on beading for a long time. Ruth kept her head high but her shoulders slumped as she saw the Kansas of her youth as clearly and brightly as this very day. "I used to enter my pies and cakes in the Fair. One day Peaches said I ought to try entering a piece of beaded jewelry I had made. I told her, 'What for?' I just knew it would never win a thing, but to please her, I entered it and won the Blue Ribbon!" Her wrinkled face grew animated, and the older lady continued, "It was a wonderful way for a young girl to be able to give lovely Christmas and birthday presents. Everyone always admired the work that went into each piece."

"I'm so grateful, Grandma, and I'll be careful with this always!" Tin-Tin swooped down to give Grandma a loving hug. "Why don't you work on more of these now? I'm sure Lady Penelope would adore something as unique and beautiful as this!"

Ruth Tracy threw back her head and laughed heartily. "No way, Tin-Tin, no way! The holes on those beads kept getting smaller and smaller until I could no longer see them. If, however, you'd like to learn, I could show you how, using larger-sized beads, of course."

"Would you? I'd be so happy to learn how to make such lovely jewelry!" Tin-Tin hugged Ruth again, very carefully.

"Tonight after dinner, then, we'll meet in the smaller TV room and we'll get started. Now I guess it's time we head down to the dining room to eat, or those boys of mine will eat us out of house and home." Grandma Tracy handed a pile of mended uniforms to Tin-Tin. "Please go and deliver these uniforms for me, would you, dear? That's a good girl, thank you."

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As Tin-Tin entered the dining room a short while later, Virgil Tracy, the middle son of the five, immediately noticed the lovely pendant which hung from a satin ribbon around her slim neck. "Wow, Tin-Tin, where did you get that? It's beautiful."

"Thanks Virg, Grandma gave it to me this afternoon. I'm so happy she shared it with me."

"Grandma, where did you get it from?" questioned Gordon, the fourth of the five Tracy sons.

"I'll have you know that I made that before you were even a twinkle in your father's eye, Gordon!" Amidst the ensuing laughter at the table, Ruth continued, "I won a Blue Ribbon with that at the County Fair. It meant a lot to me. Now it belongs to someone who will enhance its beauty!" At this, Tin-Tin blushed furiously, but said nothing. The others in the room smiled fondly at the two ladies.

After all of the inhabitants of the Island, including Brains, had feasted on a tasty dinner of prime ribs, baked potatoes and fresh from the garden salad, Ruth and Tin-Tin got up to leave before dessert. "Are you okay, Mother?" queried Jeff. "You haven't had dessert yet, and it's the blueberry pies you made this morning."

"No son, we gals have got important work to do. We'll have coffee and pie later. Enjoy the pie, everyone!" With that the smiling Grandma grabbed a bag she had left on an empty chair and walked out with Tin-Tin.

"What on earth are those two are up to?" Scott Tracy, Jeff's eldest son, wondered aloud.

"Probably to gossip about the rest of us!" quipped Gordon.

"No doubt, son. You always give everyone so much to gossip about! Now, John, which movie have you picked out for us this evening?" Chatting with his second son, a platinum blond man who was strong but a bit less muscular than his brothers, Jeff and the others strode down to the Island's movie theater. It had just been refurbished with stadium seating and Dolby 48 channel sound, and was the epitome of luxury and comfort. It was a nice place to unwind after International Rescue was called out to save people who other agencies couldn't assist, and to await the next call out.

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Two weeks later…

A 287 foot long, bright red rocket slowly turned around and descended backwards through a building known as the "Roundhouse," and disappeared amidst fluffy white clouds of steam. After the rocket had cooled sufficiently, two young men left the rocket seated on a couch which shortly rose into the heart of International Rescue's operations center. Rising to hug one and all, Alan Tracy, the youngest of the five sons of Jeff Tracy, searched for his friend Tin-Tin. After a minute she appeared, smiling at him and giving him a warm, welcoming hug and kiss. He was so glad to be home after working on Thunderbird 5, International Rescue's space satellite. It seemed there had been more calls for rescues in the past month than there had been in the previous four months combined.

"Well, little lady, I'm certainly glad to see you! We've been so busy lately we haven't had much time to talk, how about a walk on the beach after dinner?" Hugging his friend, he led her off to the dining room for dinner.

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Little could any of the members of International Rescue have foreseen the dangers they would soon be facing, nor could they have any way of guessing the dreadful repercussions of their actions–or their failure to act in time! For at that very moment, John, up in Thunderbird 5, received a chilling message:

"Internacional Rescue, ayudenos por el amor de Dios!" (International Rescue, help us for the love of God!)

"International Rescue receiving you loud and clear, please tell me the nature of your emergency," replied John in his fluent Spanish.

"My name is Cristobal Correa, and I am in a submarine off the coast of Ecuador, with 16 others, and we are trapped! We hit some kind of mine that exploded, damaged our sub, and now we are unable to surface! We have about 12 hours of air, and then we die! Help us, I beg you!"

"What Navy are you with, Senor Correa?"

"We belong to no Navy, this submarine is loaded with tons of cocaine, bound for the US and Canada. My boss, El Jefe, told me not to contact anyone for help, or he will kill all of our families, but we don't want to die! You must save us, and protect our families, have mercy!"

John froze, this was a dreadful conundrum. How could International Rescue save the families of these trapped drug runners? Should they even be saving drug dealers in the first place? Well, they were dedicated to saving human lives, and if they could, they would help. Tapping a control on the panel in front of him, John waited a second, saw the familiar face of his father at his desk at Command and Control appear onscreen, and quickly apprised him of the situation.

A look of horror appeared on the older man's face.

TBTBTBTBTB

A/N: I'll be updating this story as time permits before Christmas. I made the pendant which is the avatar for this story, and I need to make many more gifts before the holidays. Thanks for your patience and understanding!


	2. Chapter 2

An Old Treasure, A New Secret Weapon For International Rescue

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Jeff, his sons, Brains, Kyrano, Tin-Tin, Penelope, etc. I don't own any of the Thunderbirds. I am lucky my pet bunny rabbit still lets me own him, but I bribe him with lots of bunny treats! No money is made from this story, it's just for fun.

TBTBTB

The color quickly returned to Jeff Tracy's face as his mind raced into afterburner speed. Twelve hours to save God-knows-how-many, he couldn't spare a second. "John! Please tell me you've got Brains' new Privacy Beam up and running!"

John nodded his head in affirmation, saying "Dad, we just finished testing it about half an hour ago. This will certainly let us know if it's worked or not."

Jeff took his gaze away from John's vid-link picture and called for Brains to get upstairs to him immediately. How in the world did Brains keep coming up with the exact gear that they'd need, right before it was needed? For the thousandth time, he made a mental note to check Brains' lab for a crystal ball, or something like that. "Ah, Brains, that was fast. We're going to see if your new Privacy Beam works as advertised. We've got a call in from a sub loaded with drugs which just sank."

"Sh-shou-shouldn't you call the p-p-pol authorities, Mr. Tracy? We d-d-don't want to get m-mixed up in dr-drugs."

"Yes, we'll contact them, but right now we have a nightmare situation here. If the head honchos of this drug ring overheard that call for help, they've threatened to kill everyone they've held hostage from the families of the sub crew. I don't know how you ever thought up this latest device, I'm just glad you did. Please don't try to explain again how you are encrypting not only International Rescue's communications, but now also calls _to _us. Let's just pray this works as well as you thought."

"Oh, it w-works ok, Mr. Tr-tracy. John and I have b-been t-t-testing it all d-day."

"Right! John, have you got a fix on that compound yet? Are they making any threats or any communications at all?"

"No sir. Dead quiet. Wait! They're calling the sub now!"

As John listened in he hit a switch which automatically translated the call for the benefit of Jeff and Brains, neither of whom spoke Spanish.

"Listen to me, Correa," growled a harsh voice. "You better believe that I won't hesitate to kill all of the people here if you try to get out of the mess you've gotten yourselves into, stupid rats! I'll kill your wife and children first, or maybe kill your mother and let you listen in while it happens. You incompetent fool, do you know how much it's going to cost me to retrieve my 'merchandise?' Understand? Keep quiet, or they die!"

"Yes, Jefe! We will probably just take some of your 'merchandise' to not have to wait to meet death for too long, but for the love of the Saints, don't hurt people who have done you no wrong! Your items will be here for your next crew to offload!"

"Make damn sure you keep quiet, then! That's a good idea, take some of what you need, die faster and I'll get right on getting my goods more quickly. I am having this frequency and every frequency from your area monitored, so don't think you can mess with me!"

As the hand slipped from the "transmit" button, El Jefe looked at his number two man, El Malvado (Evil One) and grunted, "Caray, Malvado! We're going to have to kill them anyway, doesn't he know that? How can we let them live knowing that their husbands and sons are never coming back to them?"

"So, Jefe, should we do them now?"

"No, let's let them finish processing today's shipments for us. It's not like we'll have to pay them, my old friend. Besides, it will take a little time to truck in more slaves to process the drugs for us. Good thing business is booming, eh, amigo?" The two criminals laughed cruelly, for human lives meant nothing to them. Profit, now that was a stronger drug than anything they could snort, smoke or inject. Money, always more money. Actually, as the Holy Bible says, "The love of money is the root of all evil." These pitiful excuses for men didn't have a shred of human decency at all left between the two of them. They were pure, unadulterated evil, through and through.

In the Villa on Tracy Island, Jeff hit the alarm to call the rest of the team to Command and Control. Up in Thunderbird 5, John had been able to listen in on everything that had been said, by bouncing signals off a few spy satellites. Not only did he have video of the entire drug-processing facility located just South of the Colombian border in Ecuador, but by aiming laser signals at windows in the compound, he was able to get good, clear audio as well.

"I heard that, son," Jeff shook his head as he spoke to John. "I need you to get on with Penny, boy. Her cousin works with Interpol, he should be able to start working on a rescue plan for those hostages, as well as a plan to call out all the stops to get those drug thugs. She's on vacation now, in California. Her cousin, Timothy, is a very dependable sort, as is Penny."

"FAB, I'll get right on it, father."

Brains closed his eyes as the situation became totally clear to him. "Wa-wa-what do we do next, Mr. Tracy?"

"We let those fellows in the sub die, Brains! That's all there is for it, they just have to die!"

At just that moment, Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Alan and Tin-Tin had skidded to a halt before Jeff's desk. They stared at each other in amazement, not believing what they had just heard!

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A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating this story. Besides the holidays, I got word that my kids are going to be transferred to the other side of the planet for a couple of years due to a job transfer, sigh. Updates should be quicker now, thanks for understanding. Thanks for reviewing, too!


	3. Chapter 3

An Old Treasure, A New Secret Weapon For International Rescue

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Since my real name isn't Tracy nor Anderson, the only thing I own here are my own OC's. I have never owned a Thunderbird (except for a toy model or two) and I've never owned a living, breathing billionaire or son of said billionaire. I do own my pet lovebird, though. He doesn't even resemble a Thunderbird! This story is written for fun, never for profit.

TBTBTB

"LET THEM DIE?! Now what do you mean by that, Father? Aren't we supposed to be doing all this to _SAVE _lives?!" Scott bellowed as he crashed into Virgil as they, along with the others, stumbled to a stop before Jeff Tracy's desk. Alan barely managed to yank Tin-Tin away from Virgil as he flew sprawling to the floor.

"Hold your horses, son! We have to let their drug cartel bosses _think _we're going to let them die!"

"Now we're reduced to saving drug dealers?" griped Gordon, as the situation became clearer to him. "Doesn't that make us accessories to a crime, or something like that?"

"Not to worry, Gordon. Interpol and the other agencies involved will be right there to arrest these 'gentlemen,' a term I use very loosely in this instance. I've got John calling Penny as we speak. She's got a cousin who's pretty well placed in Interpol, he'll know the right folks to call in for this job."

Jeff quickly bought everyone up to speed. No one was looking forward to helping dealers of death and misery, but they had a job to do. Jeff began thinking out loud, "How on earth are the soldiers and agents involved in this going to get those people out of that drug production facility? How many innocents are involved? How will they protect their safety later on? Well, that's a job for the Ecuadorean military right now. I just hope they're not as corrupt as I fear they are, and that no one tips off the head of that drug operation."

"OK father," interposed Gordon. "We've got a rescue to attend to. How many are on that sub?"

"Seventeen, son. Your contact on that sub is named Cristobal Correa. I want you and John to find out everything you can about that particular sub, all of the specs as quickly as possible. If anyone can hack their way into the computers of that sub's manufacturers, it's John."

"Yes sir."

"And, Gordon? I want you to take Alan with you on this mission. These criminals could try to steal Thunderbird 4 and find a way to escape. I don't want them playing fast and loose with your lives, and you'll both carry extra weapons. I want to make it very clear to them that if they even _try _to harm you or your brothers in anyway, we'll leave and they'll be very dead very soon! Right now we're their only hope. Another thing, I'm not going to worry about the drug gang's listening in on your communications directly with the sub, they won't be able to listen in to that."

"FAB," answered Gordon as he headed towards Thunderbird Two's hangar. He would contact John while he prepped Thunderbird 4 in her pod for the rescue.

Jeff turned to Brains and asked, "How do we go about getting those men out, Brains? Seventeen people won't fit on Thunderbird 4, and there may not be time to retrieve them all before their air runs out. Do you have a way, any way, we could bring them up without allowing them into Thunderbird 4?"

Brains shook his head from side to side as he thought. "W-w-well, Mr. T-tracy, we could t-try to lift the s-sub w-with a cr-crane, b-b-but there's n-no time t-to g-get one there. We can't fl-float her to the s-surface either. W-we could t-try to p-pass the sa-sailors sc-scuba gear, b-but we'd be c-compromising the integrity of the s-sub. L-let me g-go to my l-lab, I'll g-get r-right on this!"

Brains took off at a brist walk as Jeff nodded to him. Jeff turned to Scott. "Scott, I want you to fly over the drug production camp. Fly high enough that they won't think you're looking directly at them. See if they've a helicopter or aircraft on site or if there's a runway nearby. Also, try and take as much footage as you can of the areas where the hostages might be held. John can get great visuals from Thunderbird 5, but he'll be busy with getting that info on the sub for a bit. After that, I'll let you know what comes next."

"FAB, father. See you later!" Scott walked three steps, lifted his arms to grab the innocent-looking light fixtures on the wall, and was spun around on his way to Thunderbird 1.

Virgil addressed Jeff. "Father, what if we were to try those new super-heavy-lift cables that Brains has been developing? You know, the ones to lift trains or other heavy equipment?"

"We'll let Brains decide that, Virgil. I think the extra drag of the water on those cables might be too much for them. We don't have grappling hooks on Two which would reach down deep enough to go around that sub. I wouldn't mind destroying the sub with all of the drugs on it after the men are rescued, but we have another problem here."

"What's that, Mr. Tracy?" asked Tin-Tin.

"That sub is down close to the Galapagos Islands, Tin-Tin. It's got one of the most unique marine environments in the world, and it's already being threatened with pollution. The Ecuadorean government is allowing fewer people to live on the islands, and is enforcing stricter regulations for boats and cruise ships in the area. It's a World Heritage site and it's also a biosphere reserve."

"Great, just great!" snarked Alan. "Not only do we have to worry about these criminals trying to kill us or just escape, now we have to worry about all those tons of drugs going into those protected waters!"

"I know, Alan. Let's give Brains a little while to consider the best way to go about this rescue."

Grandma Tracy walked in at that moment. Smiling at everyone, she announced, "Food's on the table! If you're going to be going on a rescue, you'll need to have a good meal inside of you before you go."

Virgil picked up his grandmother and kissed her cheek. Putting her down carefully, he asked, "Fried chicken? Hmmm?"

"Maryland fried chicken, your favorite!"

"Let's hurry up before Gordon comes back upstairs and finishes it all, Grandma!" Laughing, the group hurried off to the dining room for a quick meal.

TBTBTB

Meanwhile, Lady Penelope's cousin Timothy, who had worked for Scotland Yard before transferring to Interpol, cut the connection to the call he'd just had with her. Colombia and Ecuador were both members of Interpol, which had a membership comprised of 190 countries. He was reasonably sure that his colleagues in Interpol were more trustworthy than the National Police departments of those two countries, but he wasn't one hundred percent certain. Well, he'd just have to trust his gut on this one, there wasn't time to do lengthy background checks on the men he'd be working with. Timothy happened to be in New York at present, he had just finished a briefing with his counterpart at Interpol's Special Representative Office to the United Nations. He called and made a reservation for the next flight to Quito, Ecuador. There was a flight leaving within the hour, so he called another colleague for an NYPD helicopter to get him over to JFK airport directly. The helo would get him to the airport in roughly 12 minutes. Driving through Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens at that time of day probably wouldn't have been much quicker than the flight to Ecuador. Timothy mused, London or New York, which had the worst traffic? Ah, they were both simply dreadful. He was almost at the 20-year mark of his career with Interpol. Perhaps it was time to think about retirement, and having a garden to putter around in with his wife in the countryside. No no, Timothy, he chided himself. Keep your mind of the mission! Interpol may well be politically neutral, but we're all in agreement that fighting illegal drugs is one of our more important responsibilities today. Time to work! Shaking his head, he began formulating a plan of action to both rescue the hostages, and either capture or kill as many of the drug thugs as possible.

TBTBTB

Kyrano approached Brains' lab with a tray of chicken and salad. He found Brains typing furiously away at his Cray XK-96 hybrid supercomputer. "Mr. Brains, you must eat something, please, sir."

Brains smiled faintly at Kyrano. "P-puh-please p-put it there, K-k-kyrano. Thanks!"

"You are very welcome, Mr. Brains." Kyrano then headed for Thunderbird Two's hangar, with another tray for Gordon. Arriving promptly, he saw Gordon dragging what appeared to be a long yellow plastic snake. "Mr. Gordon, you must eat, sir."

"Thanks a million, Kyrano. If my nose doesn't deceive me that's Grandma's famous fried chicken in there!"

"You are right, Mr. Gordon," replied Kyrano. He smiled and went back towards the villa's kitchen.

Gordon neatly rolled up the yellow plastic and carefully stowed it in Thunderbird Four's inner cargo space. He ate his meal while completing pre-launch checks and was soon bounding upstairs to International Rescue's Command and Control.

TBTBTB

At that very moment, El Jefe was being flown in his Robinson R44 helicopter on his way to see one of his girlfriends, his favorite. She was also Ecuadorean, originally from Riobamba. He'd bought her to live in a luxurious cottage about an hour away from his drug production facility, but far enough away from his own home that his wife wouldn't be meeting her in the street. Ay, that Carmencita Quinonez, she was a great distraction to his daily life! Sure, he loved his wife and daughter, but he was a man, just like his father taught him to be. One woman is never enough for a real man, or so he thought. Carmencita was from a good family, but quite lazy. She'd never bothered to have a career or get married, just enjoyed ruining the families of other women. When he tired of her, she'd just disappear into the jungle, he couldn't risk having anyone with any knowledge of his business alive to talk about it, unless they were actively working for him. Of course, Carmencita would never suspect a thing until then! El Jefe was confident that his associate, El Malvado, would take care of whatever needed to be done that night with the people they had slaving away for them at the compound. Now he just had to figure out a way to hire a salvage operation to bring up his tons of cocaine and other drugs. He'd offer whatever money he needed to. It really wouldn't matter, he'd have the salvage crew murdered so they couldn't talk to anyone about his business! And tonight, Carmencita and he would have such a wonderful time…

At that moment, there was a loud bang from the rear of the R44. The tail rotor had just disintegrated! The R44's pilot immediately began an auto-rotation, trying to float the helo down to a safe landing. He didn't have a lot of altitude to work with, he'd been flying just below 300 feet to avoid military radar in the area. The earth rushed up to meet the R44, as the pilot cursed and his passenger screamed…


End file.
